


The Big Bang

by inthemarketplace



Series: Spaceships are for lovers [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, abduction cw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15922547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthemarketplace/pseuds/inthemarketplace
Summary: The alien abduction meet-cute you've been searching for your whole life. I'd say sorry but I'm not. It's gonna get weird, then it's gonna get weirder. Not for the lily livered. You've been warned.Please note that I haven't properly edited this and it is messy, but so am I, and so is life.Jump on my sexy spaceship, mothers and fuckers, and together we will sail into bliss.





	1. Lights flashing in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Gracie. You're the cat's pajamas.

i.

 

Halfway through the night, she awoke to a dark room. That alone was not cause for concern but something… something was off. The room had a tinny feeling that it hadn’t had when she’d went to sleep. She reached besider her, grasping at the space where her phone should be. Nothing. But maybe it had moved in the night. That didn’t explain why it was so, so dark, why she couldn’t see the dim glow of street lamps in the window… maybe there had been a power outage? Yes, that would make sense of how dark it was, of how disoriented she felt. And maybe she was coming down with something. That might explain the way her stomach felt like it was floating above her, the way her body felt lighter than it ought, and the way that her head throbbed.

But none of this mattered anyway, because at the moment she’d decided she should go back to sleep, the room gave the most horrible lurch and she knew she wasn’t in her bed any longer… that this wasn’t the flat and there wasn’t a power outage and she maybe wasn’t even in London anymore. Something else had happened. Something strange. Maybe something terrible. 

Where had she been taken? And who had taken her? And where was she now?

_ Taken _ . That was the word for what had happened, wasn’t it? 

She sat up and moved back, heels digging into what she now recognised by its too-silky surface as a mattress that was foreign to her. Her back hit the wall with a dull thud and it was all she could do to not cry out. It wasn’t more startling than the realisation that she was no longer in her home, but it was a nasty shock all the same. For instead of butting up against plaster she’d encountered something smooth and hard. The walls were metal. And they were warm.

As if her weight would be enough to break them down, she pressed her palms against the strange walls and gave a firm push. She wasn’t surprised when they didn’t give way, but she certainly wasn’t pleased, either. 

 

 

The pressure in her head intensified. She closed her eyes in response even though it was an admittedly redundant thing to do in a pitch-black room. 

How long had she been out? How had she gone to sleep in one place and woken up in another? Only, the thing was, she didn’t remember going to bed. 

Come to think of it, she didn’t even remember getting ready for bed. Even now, when she tried to recall going through the motions of her evening routine the pain in her head grew stronger. 

Deciding it wouldn’t do to dwell on it, she reached out her hands until she found the edge of the mattress. Climbing off of it, she slowly followed the walls with her hands. 

She felt her way along, moving forward gingerly with stunted steps as her hands moved up and down the boundaries of her mysterious prison.

Two, three, twelve steps forward and the slick surface remained the same as she tried to keep her head steady as her feet. Twenty, twenty-two, thirty steps and she felt something different. 

She stopped and stood in cautious hopefulness, for what her right hand had apparently brushed along unfeeling her left had caught onto: there was some sort of indentation in the wall. It could be nothing but perhaps it might be some sort of latch?

As she fingered the hollow place in the wall she stumbled upon a lever. She pulled it ever so slightly and it made a clicking sound. Though she kept her hand upon it, fearful it might dissolve into the dark air if she let it get away, she could feel how it moved, connecting itself into the wall from which it had been separated but this time lower down. She touched it some more; it was unmistakable now, the latch had formed itself into some kind of handle.

Oh god, she thought, a door—maybe there was a way out of this darkness after all? She pushed the handle forward but it wouldn’t move. Neither did pulling it yield any ground. It shouldn’t have surprised her, she thought, why wouldn’t she be locked into some sort of metal cage? Why would she be taken just so that she might escape? But perhaps… maybe it wasn’t locked. Perhaps it was a sort of sliding door? She steadied herself with a breath and pulled the handle parallel to the wall. It gave a wonderful sort of click. This was it! This was really it. 

If she really was being held captive it couldn’t possibly be unlocked, maybe there was a chance this was all a misunderstanding? She placed her hand on the latch and closed her eyes, not that it mattered in the lightless room. 

She pulled once more on the lever and the door melted away. Or rather, it slid open until it disappeared into the wall, and she was met with a wave of yellow light.

What she found beyond the door puzzled her. The metal walls and pitch blackness had made her think she might be in some sort of warehouse or hangar, but here before her was a sort of  _ parlour _ . A few strange lamps dimly lit the space, allowing her to make out the outline of upholstered furnishings. 

The light flooded into her field of vision and she turned around to glance back at the room from which she’d come. Now, in the reddish light she could see the room in which she’d woken was likewise hardly utilitarian, kitted as it was in tapestries and silks. 

She moved toward the sofa, running her fingers along the fine upholstery as she wondered again at the situation. Who had brought her here? And why? If she was a prisoner, why keep her in an unlocked room? And unattended? But then again, she thought as she sat down on the plush cushion of a chaise, why take her in the first place? She wasn’t anyone special. 

There probably wouldn’t be anyone even looking for her. She was on holiday from school and her flatmates were all out of town and… oh god, what if this was some sort of serial killer thing? 

She pushed that thought down for later. No reason to lose her head now, after all. First things first she needed a plan. 

Perhaps it was high time to set about escaping this… whatever it was. Just because whoever had taken her had set her up in some posh apartment didn’t mean she needed to stay here. She rose and moved to walk around the room moving clockwise. There didn’t seem to be any doors to the room except the one she’d already opened. Only glossy, hopelessly smooth walls surrounded her. 

Just great. Just absolutely fucking wonderful. A room with no doors, like she was stuck in some sort of sick puzzle—nope, she thought and pushed down that disturbing thought as well.

She went to explore the room where she’d woken, but therein she found no means of escape. If she’d only been able to light the space it might be a different matter but this room didn’t seem to be afforded the lamps of the parlour so, not wanting to be left in the dark, to the parlour she returned. 

The lack of doors was a mystery, and one that was beginning to alarm her. How could she have come to be in this place if there were no entrances? Without windows or doors how did she even end up here in the first place? 

She completed her circle around the room and was starting to become really very uneasy when she remembered the way she’d opened the door while still in the darkness. She’d had to feel around for a latch, not relying on sight. Maybe the doors were simply… hidden? It was worth a try, at the very least.

She picked a wall, the one at the far end of the room and moved toward it cautiously.

She wouldn’t, she told herself, have any reason to panic until she’d felt along all the walls in both rooms and come up empty. And so she moved along the glossy expanse, hands hoping to catch a lapse in the monotonous plane. She felt foolish palming the walls of the room but couldn’t see another way of going about it. 

She was halfway along the wall when it happened. She felt another latch like the one that had led her into this parlour. But what if, she thought hand raised above the newly discovered device, opening this unleashes some fresh horror? But she was already in a strange place with no knowledge of how she came to be there or for what purpose she had been brought, so it stood to reason that opening one door might lead to some new discovery, and besides, opening the first door had led her into the light; why shouldn’t this new one likewise provide some sort of positive development? 

And so she pulled the latch but what was released was not a door but a sort of curtain. Again the metal wall seemed to melt away but in the dim light of the parlour she could see better how the material folded discreetly into the wall. Behind the metal curtain was not, however, another chamber, but rather a strange picture. 

It seemed to be some sort of depiction of the night sky, stars dotting a velvety black canvas. It wasn’t a terribly good picture, though, she thought. Everything about the painting, or whatever it was, held too much intensity. The stars were too… it didn’t make any sense but the only word she could think of to describe it was that they seemed too  _ alive _ . Which was ridiculous of course. She was wondering what the artist had meant by making the north star so comically large when it did something she hadn’t expected at all: it moved. 

Or rather, everything around it seemed to move, and what was more odd still was that she felt a sort of lurch in her stomach like she’d felt when she’d laid in the bed and hoped she was only imagining things. But here was yet another thing she couldn’t explain away. Why did she feel movement the same time that the picture moved and why would a picture move in the first place and  _ oh! _ No, it wasn’t a picture at all!

She stared at the image transfixed. So it was some sort of window then? But how could it be?

The moon was… it was too big. And what was more is that it shouldn’t have been so full! Why, the last full moon had only been ten days ago! She knew because Finn had made such a big deal about—but wait, if the moon was full now, how long had she been here? Oh god, she thought, what if she was missing more than one evening’s worth of time? Had she been here for days? And why…  _ god _ , why was the moon so  _ big _ ? And why was everything moving? 

Oh no, she thought again, what if… was it possible she might be in some sort of aeroplane? She’d felt movement in her whole body, and here was this impossible window, and everything was off and wrong and the warm metal walls… it made as much sense as anything else did. 

She sunk into herself, hands braced against the window as she stared at the moon. It really was entirely too large. And too… colourful? And the patterns… they looked all wrong and—no, it couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t. But the only other times she had seen a sphere that looked like that was in textbooks and documentaries and… 

Her stomach fell out from underneath her. It wasn’t the moon at all. Rey Johnson was looking at the earth. 

  
  


* * *

**ii.**

 

He was arguing with one of the engineers when he heard her scream. Or rather, when he felt her panic rise into a white-hot peak. 

The med-techs must have given her the wrong dosage. Absolute buffoons. 

He took leave of the personnel with none of his usual formality, but bolted off in the direction of his quarters at a sprint. The glossy black halls of the ship blurred as he rushed toward the port bow. He ran, sliding across the floor as he scrambled to get to the girl.

He was nearly there when he tripped over his feet and paused, collecting himself for the time it took to regain his balance. As his laborious breaths filled the corridor he wondered at the urgency with which he’d rushed off, and at how natural it had felt to follow the compulsion. 

Because… and it didn’t seem possible, but he was certain of it, he really  _ had _ felt her panic, the question was: how? The urgency that had ripped through him kept him from asking too many questions but now that he stood still, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily, he couldn’t place the sensation, couldn’t decipher how he’d just  _ known _ what she was feeling. He wondered if maybe he had only imagined it when  _ there! _ It happened again. It was different this time, less shapeless… sharper in its intensity. 

Without pausing further to examine the notion he took off again, running toward the room where she had been laid.

It was a small guest chamber adjoining his own suite that he had requested be outfitted for her. When the crew had shown up with the unconscious woman he’d been hesitant to allow her on board, but after they’d assured him they’d followed protocol he’d relented. “Multiple specimens from each planet” had been the directive but he didn’t like having to meddle with intelligent species. Too messy. The testing too rigourous, the paperwork too lengthy… no, it was best to collect samples that didn’t talk back. 

He keyed his code into the pad beside the door and entered the guest chamber. He threw on the lights, not stopping to wonder why they should be still off if the girl was awake, and looked around what he now saw was an empty room. 

It was an empty room but the door that led into the shared parlour was thrown open. He followed her path into the warmth of the small salon when he saw her. She was gaping at the window like she’d never seen one before and it seemed to, somehow, be the source of her fright. 

“My—” he began but the sound of a voice was enough to startle her something awful.  

The girl whipped around to face him, a little hunched over with arms out like she meant to steady herself on the air. Her eyes were wide and wild. She had the demeanor of an animal trying to decide between fighting or fleeing.

He reached out to offer her a hand but she recoiled.

Perhaps the customs of this planet were far removed from his own? Perhaps the specimen his crew had acquired was not as intelligent as they’d thought. He regarded the creature with detached curiosity. 

He’d already forgotten the urgency that had brought him to the room so quickly when  _ there! _ it happened again!

He… he  _ felt _ her fear. 

Their eyes met and he saw intelligence and warmth alongside fright. 

Somehow this time he knew she would be able to understand him. He reached out a hand that she didn’t take, but from which she did not shrink away. He cleared his throat. 

“My name is Captain Ben Solo,” he said. “Welcome to my ship.”

  
  


* * *

**iii**

  
  


“Your—your—” she started with a dry voice, “what do—who are you? What—what’s happening?”

And then, pressing her shoulders back and her chin forward, she shook off the fog. 

“What’s happening?” she said, but now her voice grew firmer, more commanding. “Why did you take me?  _ Tell _ me!”

And this time her voice seemed to go straight to his core; it was his turn to stutter as he tried to clear the confusion that had settled between his ears. 

“I—I am the captain—”

“Well I don’t know what that means! Why am I here? Why did you  _ take _ me??” she cried out. 

“I—we are conducting an experiment—” he began in a laughable breach of protocol. Any green petty officer would have known better than to inform her of such a sensitive matter.

Her eyes grew wide as saucers. 

“A—an experim—oh god! I knew it! Oh god—”

“What? No, it’s not—”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she said, voice still firm even as she backed away from him, putting the chaise securely in the space between them. 

“Miss, please, won’t you sit down? I’m sure if I explain, you’ll see—”

“Look I don’t really care! So you can…"

"Please, I—”

"—so let me off this thing or—or—”

“Or you’ll what? Have you an army at your command?” he asked with a raised brow and a tuck of his chin. “My men might be utter buffoons,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation at how close it was to the truth “but I feel quite certain they would not have taken you if you’d not qualified.”

“Qualif—what does that…” she trailed off as her frame seemed to freeze in place.

“They wouldn’t have taken you if there was anyone to come looking for you,” he said, and instantly regretted his words even as he spoke them, “so it seems to me that I can take anything that I want.”

 

Three things happened at the same time.

 

First, he realised how appalling his words sounded. They bounced around his head and the next seconds felt like eons as his face fell in realisation of the vague but threatening thing he’d said to this girl. Letting her know about the experiment, failing to reassure her, and now threatening her? God, he should be thrown in the brig. 

Second, the room went completely silent. 

Third, whatever fear had been holding her in place either dissipated completely or else was given over to action, because in the silent moments that followed his mad declaration, the panic in her eyes was replaced with steely determination. He didn’t even see her do it, wasn’t at all sure how it was possible, but she had somehow secured a poker from beside the mantle and was now brandishing it in his direction. 

 

“Fuck off you creep!” she shouted, “and don’t come any closer.”

“Miss, please, I promise you that I don’t mean any—”

She ignored his words, focusing instead on his figure. Like a cat stalking its prey she circled him, and he was glad she hadn’t scoured the room. If she had, she would have realised she was backing him closer and closer to the fireplace at which she’d secured her own makeshift weapon. 

He didn’t have time, however, to reach for one before her first wild jab nearly landed on his leg. He dodged the blow, jumping ridiculously to the left but sooner than he would have thought possible she made to strike him again, and this time the poker hit him with thunk to the shoulder. He groaned as she withdrew but she made toward him again, as if she meant to run him through with the poker!

He parried her uncontrolled lunge and the poker fell to the floor.

The surprise on her face only lasted a moment before he had to move wildly to miss her right hook. In her fervour she overextended and, seeing a chance at de-escalating the situation over which he’d so entirely lost control, he grabbed her right wrist with his and spun her around. She was faced away from him as he moved to secure her left hand. 

Perhaps she hadn’t thought this far ahead, or perhaps some raw instinctive panic had set in… whatever the reason, she seemed to eliminate tactical movements the moment she was captured in his grip, choosing instead to throw her weight against his own.

“Let me go!” she shouted “let me—”

He tightened his grip on her wrists, pinning her against his chest as she kicked wildly about. 

“Where—where am I?” she demanded but the fire behind her voice had begun to break. “Please—what, what  _ is _ that thing?” she said, jutting one of the wrists he held toward the window at which he’d found her.

“The window? What—”

“No, no it—it—no it can’t be!” she said with a thrash and a shout, “because—because—”

“What are you—” he began, trying to keep his hold on her firm without causing pain. “Please, you don’t need to—would you please be still?” 

“But it can’t be, no—” she broke off, her voice taking on a higher pitch than he’d yet heard. He could feel the pulse in her throat racing as she strained against him. 

The girl—no,  _ Rey _ —she needed to be reassured. The way she should have been from the first, had he not lost all sense of protocol and duty. 

“It can’t, it can’t!”

“Rey, please, just listen to me, please, I’ll—”

“It can’t!” she cried.

“—explain everything if you just—”

She was making a sound in the back of her throat like a wounded animal: not quite a sob nor a scream but a sort of primal yell. 

“Rey!” he said in a stern voice. That seemed to shock her into silence, and he wondered at how long he’d delayed using a commanding tone when she inhaled so deeply that he felt her expanding ribs against his own and everything else seemed to dim in comparison to the girl he was holding against his chest. 

He hadn’t noticed when she stopped thrashing. 

She turned her head ever-so-slightly to the right and toward his chest.

“How,” she said, voice small,  “did you do that?”

“Do?”

She’d gone completely still in his arms.  _ In his arms… _ Oh, this was… not following protocol. He really should release her, he thought, but she turned around facing him with eyes shifting from desperation to wonder. 

“How did you know my name?”

“I—”

“Did you… did they tell you?”

“No, I—”

“Then how?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered baldly.

She swayed where she stood at his words and he knew she’d had more than enough excitement. 

“Please,” he said, but this time his tone was gentle if importuning, “won’t you sit down?”

She nodded sleepily and let him lead her to the chaise. 

“Who are you?” she asked, looking up at him with drooping lids. “Where am I? And… why did you take me?”

“Please,” he began before pausing to swallow the lump in his throat, “I’ll explain everything over tea.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Stars shining in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serious conversations, routine check-ups, digestifs! 'Tis the stuff sexy times are made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing, what's that? If you're looking for a fic written with cohesion and finesse, look elsewhere baybee!

**i.**  


Ben glanced down at the teacup that was dwarfed by his hands.

It was safer to stare at the delicate ceramic. Better than applying pressure to the fragile calm he’d only just established. He didn’t want to stare too long at the girl, didn’t want to spook her; she’d barely calmed down as it was, and it wouldn’t do to start making her uneasy again.

“What—what is this place?” she began tentatively.

“It’s my ship.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t—I don’t know what you mean—”

She searched for words, staring into her tea. He worried she might begin sputtering again.

“Rey—”

“It can’t be—it—I was just upset earlier, the painting, it—”

“—I know this must be—” he tried to say, tried to keep the manic look in her eye from evolving into outright terror.

“—it’s just a painting, right? It’s not like we’re—”  

“—hard for you—”

“—in—in—in space…”

The concern on the captain’s face grew deeper. He thought they’d progressed past this but perhaps her temporary calm had been just that: a symptom of shock rather than her recovery from it.    

“Rey, I’m sorry—” he began.

“Oh god,” she said so loudly it rattled the china.

“Please, if you won’t—if I can’t explain myself without causing you distress, won’t you tell me about yourself?”

“About me?”

“Yes,” he said with relief, glad he’d found a way to stopper her fright.

“Well I’m—I’m nobody.”

“I’m sure that is not true.”

“But—”  

“Could we start with your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes.”

“But you already know my name.”

“I suppose that is true,” he frowned, “but I don’t know how I know it. Is this your one name? Rey? Do you not have a family name? Or is this not an earth custom?”

“I mean my last name is Johnson, but I don’t have a family.”

“I see,” he said solemnly.

“How did you know though? My name?”

“I—I cannot say. I don’t understand why but we seem to have some…”

“Connection?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Ok but like, what does that even mean?”

“I—I’m afraid I don’t know,” he confessed before retreating back into the silence granted him by attending to his tea.

“We do…” he began.

“Yeah?”

“We do need to discuss a plan for how to proceed,” he continued with some amount of hesitance.

“What?”

“In regards to your presence here.”

“My presence here? Like what, am I under arrest or some shit?”

“Certainly not, Miss—”

But he was interrupted by her panic rising again.

“Then why—” she shouted.

“Please, Miss Johnson, if you would calm down, please, I can assure you there is nothing for you to fear—”

“What? Look, maybe it’s like no big deal to you or whatever, but this is like fucking terrifying! I’ve never hardly left the home counties let alone got stuck in space!”

“Miss Johnson, you have my word that we will return you to your home on earth.”

“Really?” she asked, the declaration stopping her in her tracks.

“Of course,” he said eyes boring into hers with dark intensity.

“So I’m not, like, kidnapped then? Or like, not anymore? I’m _un_ -kidnapped?”

“Please believe me,” he began, lowering his head closer to hers, “we never had any intention of abducting you. It would be my greatest shame if our actions disturbed the peace between systems that have hitherto had such limited contact.”

“Umm, well no one’s gonna start a war over me, if that’s what you mean.”

Before arranging his face into one of stone he let an odd flicker run across his expression; if Rey didn’t know better, she would have thought it to be incredulity. As it stood she found it more likely to be indigestion. Space biscuits were atrocious. She took another one anyway.

“So why did they take me then? If I’m not being held hostage or whatever, why did you all grab me?”

The captain swallowed and began with difficulty.

“I was not… present when the exploratory team encountered you but—I looked over the report and it seems they discovered you, in some apparent state of distress, during a routine sweep for samples, and—”

“Samples?”

“Botanical slides, cell swabs, that sort of thing. We aren’t commissioned for whole specimen testing, I’m still not—”

“Testing? What—”

“What I mean to say is, I haven’t entirely figured out why the team brought you back to the ship. It isn’t an exact breach of our operation but it is highly irregular. It seems, according to their report, that they feared you were in danger if they left you alone and, not knowing where to return you they brought you here.”

“Oh _that’s_ all, then?” she said, raising her brow.

“As I said, it is highly irregular. Especially because of the limited nature of our mission on your planet, and our immediate departure. I still have not ascertained the motives behind the team’s delay in informing me of your presence but it means that I must apologise again.”

“Again? What does _that_ mean?”   

“We are currently en route to another planet in this star system but we can return you to earth quite promptly after that, if you don’t mind the wait. Of course, if this is unacceptable we can turn the ship around, but a reversal in direction would ultimately take rather longer than the planned trip, and—”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“I—”

“You want me to like, go on space adventures? Like ride your UFO across the galaxy?”

“Well the planet for which we’ve set our course is a neighbour to yours, but I suppose, yes, that is what I’m asking. But I _am_ asking. The choice of course must be yours.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it, I guess. I’ll go on alien adventures and shit.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, I—I mean if it really will get me back sooner?”

“It will,” he nodded.

“And you lot promise not to like… eat me or whatever?”

“Miss Johnson, please believe me, no harm will come to you aboard this ship.”

“Yeah ok, then. Alien adventures it is, I guess. Do I—do I like have to sign something?”

He hesitated before beginning and Rey wondered briefly if she really _might_ be asked to sign an intergalactic NDA.

“While there is nothing for you to sign, Miss Johnson, I would be very grateful if you would allow our medical technicians to examine your health. Given the distress in which you were found and the stress you’ve encountered since awaking—”

“Yeah, alright. Just like a checkup, right? Like a basic doctor thing?”

“Indeed.”

“Ok, cool,” she said with a shrug. “Fire away, captain.”

The captain set his cup down on the table and stood, gesturing for her to do the same. She followed him to the black wall which, upon him pressing some sort of lever or latch, melted away to reveal an industrial passage.

He turned back toward her.

“Ben,” he said.

“What?”

“Ben. My name is Ben.”

She swallowed and nodded in response.

“This way, please,” he said, returning to the business at hand and, as he lead her along a corridor, she wondered if the strangest part of her very strange evening was over, or only just beginning.

 

* * *

 

 

**ii.**

If it weren’t for the stress she was under, she would have sworn the ebullient man that greeted the captain from the med bay window was made of metal. At least, his skin seemed to be. It was glossy and grey and impossible. She was just in shock, of course.

He had wanted to run all manner of tests on his “charming specimen” but the captain had gruffly put a stop to that.

“No tests?”

“Please, doctor, she’s a guest on this ship. All that’s required is for you to measure and ensure her health.”

“But captain, surely—”

“No, only the essentials. That’s an order.”

Very well, very well. Really a shame given the scientific possibilities—”

The captain raised a brow.

“But I digress, I digress… now let’s see. Where to start…”

Ben had made to leave, intending to give her privacy, not wanting to intrude but she grabbed him by the arm.

“Stay,” she had said, her eyes wide.

 

And so, when the doctor had completed his poking and prodding, when he had left to analyse his findings, but declaring her otherwise in excellent health, it was again just the two of them.

He continued to find himself strangely affected by her presence.

“So like, what’s up with this ship anyway? Is it like a nerd ship?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Like science or whatever, yeah?”

“Well we—we certainly do conduct research. However, like most of the ships in the Galactic Fleet ours serves many purposes. This craft is a multi-purpose Z-Class Saucer. We take on a variety of missions. Exploratory, research, military when necessary—”

“Oh my god do you have laser guns?”

“Miss Johnson, please—”

“Yeah, sorry, carry on.”  

But the doctor chose that moment to reappear.

“No sign of toxins or contagions that could negatively impact the patient or the crew, Captain. It appears we are all set, as it were!” he declared.

“Thank you, doctor,” Ben nodded gravely.

“Do the physicians on your home planet perform similar tests?” he said, turning to Rey.

“I—yeah, I guess so. It’s just kinda different I guess.”  

The doctor nodded enthusiastically.

“Fascinating!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, sure it is,” Rey said without much sincerity.

She heard a noise like a muffled cough and turned to see the captain covering his throat with a gloved hand.

“Pardon me, but we must be going,” he said.

“Yes, yes, of course you must. Miss Jackson,” cried the doctor reverently, extending a silver hand to her, “it has been a pleasure. Please do return if you feel unwell or if you wish to participate in any—completely voluntary of course— _ahem_ arrangements regarding the _ahem_ scientific—”

But a look from the captain was enough to silence the inquiry.

“Nevermind, nevermind! Off you go, then! Ta-ta!”

 

As Ben guided Rey out of the med bay, hand on her back, he tried to maneuver his thoughts away from how right the touch felt, and more alarming, how certain he was that she felt it too.

 

* * *

 

 

**iii.**

“Thank you,” he said with more gravity than she felt was merited for simply submitting to a series of pricks and prods, “for participating in the experimentations.”

“Oh, it’s not—s’nothing,” she shrugged

He offered no response save a solemn bow of his head.

“May I accompany you back to your chamber? I imagine you might like to rest. The tests seemed… rigorous. And the hour is late.”

“I s’pose, yeah,” she said.  “Wait, what time _is_ it? I’m not—I guess I forgot to ask about the time with everything going on and... how—how long have I been here?”

“Would you like me to check the logs?”

“Maybe, just—for right now can you just make a guess?”

“A guess?”

“As to how long I’ve…”

“Ah, yes.” He drew a round device from his breast pocket. “Around... four hours, I believe,” he said, examining the markings on what must have been some kind of pocket watch, but looked nothing like any Rey had ever seen.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“It just… seemed like longer I guess.”

“It is common for those new to interplanetary travel to experience some amount of disorientation.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Ok.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the parlour in which she’d found herself when she first encountered the captain.

“Same place then?” she asked as she watched him press a series of buttons on a keypad that seemed to appear from the wall, and just as quickly melt back into it.

“Yes,” he said, and the onyx doors glided open. “This parlour is attached to the captain’s quarters, which are on your right. The chambers to the right are yours.”

“Oh! you’ll just be like right next door?”

“Yes. If there is anything that you require, please don’t hesitate to ask. Your room is equipped with voice tech and it will alert me if you make any requests. You do, however, have control over your room and its functions, including its security systems, so I hope you will not feel uneasy on that count.”

“Okay? Thanks,” she said, turning toward the door she’d clawed her way out from only hours ago.  

“Goodnight, Miss Johnson,” she heard him say softly over her shoulder.

“Yeah… night,” she said, turning around, but by the time she did he had already disappeared through the ebony doors.

  
• • •

 

She woke up gently. A small lamp whose glow had been indiscernible grew until it filled the room with a warm yellow glow. She’d looked for a window as its source until she realised how impossible that would be.

“I suppose there isn’t sunrise in space,” she said to the empty room as she stretched her limbs. _Space_. Huh. So apparently the morning had given her some amount of resignation on the matter. She only felt a dull sort of nausea at the thought, nothing like the sharp throbbing panic of last night.  

She rose from the bed.

The lights must have been on some sort of timer, because more and more sources of light seemed to come alive. It was almost like they guided her around the room. One lead her to a washroom. Another brought her to a wardrobe. She opened up the doors and found a small number of garments packed in tight bundles.

They seemed to be of the same style as the people she’d seen last night. At least she thought so, she hadn’t paid too much attention to fashions aboard the craft, but regardless she had fresh clothes and that was something.

What was more was the spread laid before her in the parlor that adjoined hers and the captain’s chambers. When she opened the door, the latch for which she now was able to locate with ease, she was greeted by a very sombre Captain Ben Solo presiding over several plates of fresh fruit.

 

• • •

 

It was odd how quickly Rey settled into a sort of pattern with the captain. She woke up when it pleased her and joined him in the parlour for breakfast. She’d return to her room, shower, get dressed, and then explore the ship with its strange foods and sounds and  people and engines until dinner where she’d join the captain again. He seemed to like her company; at the very least he was capable of treating her as some esteemed guest rather than a stowaway.

Dinners onboard the ship were taken in the mess for the rest of the crew. For the captain and his officers, dinner was served in a private dining room near the nav. He always insisted upon Rey joining in for coffee and drinks after in the study.

 

The first time it happened was the third evening she spent in this manner. All the other officers had retired and only she and Ben remained. She was still getting her bearings on the ship, and she supposed that was what saved her from utter humiliation.

“Miss Johnson—” he called behind her with no small amount of alarm in his voice as she put her hand on the latch of the parlour door.

“Yep?”

“That is, well that is the door to my chambers.”

“What?”

“If your quarters are unsatisfactory, I can—”

“What? No, I—no it’s—sorry I just got—” she cut herself off.

“Oh. I see.”

“I didn’t mean—I mean I just forgot—”

“Please, don’t trouble yourself. The newness of your circumstances alone…” he allowed himself to drift off. He selected the correct door, the one that opened on their shared parlour, and stood aside. She entered and wordlessly made her way to her chamber door.

“Goodnight, Miss Johnson.”

“Night,” she mumbled, not daring to look him in the face as she slunk into her room.  


The second time could be blamed on the strength drink she had taken with supper. It was the sixth evening and she had, in hindsight, been entirely too familiar. It hadn’t helped how much time they seemed to be spending together. It seemed that the captain requested her presence ( _but only if convenient, of course, Miss Johnson_ ) at nearly every opportunity. Whatever it was between them—this connection—seemed to enjoy feeding itself. And as the conversation and liquor had flowed into the night she’d grown increasingly warm and increasingly comfortable. Too comfortable, by far. Made worse by how well she seemed to be adapting to her new circumstances.

When they found themselves alone they made their way back to their respective quarters. She didn’t notice she was holding his arm until his movements in opening the door jostled her into awareness. And even then she only responded by moving closer to him.

“Thanks,” she said lowly into his ear.

He cleared his throat.

“Of course, Miss Johnson. And goodnight,” he said, making a show of leading her to her chambers.

“Aww, don’t you have more space rummy?”

“I think it’s possible that we’ve had more than enough,” he said, trying for a stern tone but only succeeding in leaning closer to her.

“Pretty please, captain?” she said, hazel eyes wide and glowing. He swallowed, trying to pull himself out of their crystalline depths.

“Goodnight, Miss Johnson,” he said again, this time able to pull himself away sufficiently to draw a sobering breath.

“Rey,” she corrected him, half leaning against the door.

He nodded.

“Goodnight, Rey.”  


The third time was the most damning, she supposed, on account of how she hadn’t any excuse to fall back on, and on account of just how far she'd gone. No drink or unfamiliarity with her surroundings could be to blame. She’d been on the ship over a week now; this was the seventh evening she spent in the captain’s study.

Again they were the last to remain in the study.

They walked back to the parlour together.

She wasn’t yet ready to retire.

They sat awhile.

The conversation lulled and they sat in warm silence for half a minute.

“How—” he cleared his throat, “how are you finding your quarters?”

“My—my quarters?”

“Is everything in your room to your satisfaction?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah it’s great. A little sparse I s’pose but it’s fine.”

He nodded. Her gaze lingered on him, tracing the contours of his face.

“I guess it could use a little more personality,” she said with a laugh.

“There are other rooms,” he said, his voice dark and thick.

But before she could respond he rose and turned away from her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t want—”  

“Ben,” she said, stepping toward him, and the gentleness in her voice was only outmatched by the hand she placed on his shoulder.  

“Yes?” he said, facing her with a searching look.

“Can I—”

“Anything,” was all he said and she was almost sure he meant it.

Gingerly, she moved her hand to his face and he closed his eyes in relief. She stepped closer and brushed her lips chastely against his.

“Rey,” he breathed. And as she gazed up at him he seemed to come to life.

“Rey,” he said again, and this time more sure of himself he drew her to his side and began to kiss her in earnest. She broke away but kept him from the regrets threatening to spill from his lips. Rey smiled at the captain.

She took his hand and led him to the door through which she’d watched him disappear a half dozen times. He swallowed and raised his hand to throw the latch all the while gazing reverently into her eyes. The doors parted and still he stood still, waiting for a sign, waiting for her. She walked through the portal and pulled gently at him to follow.

 _I can’t believe I’m doing this_ , she thought.

Yet, as the door slid shut, melting into seamless onyx, she felt nothing but warmth and anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what happens directly after this chapter, fear not, there will be a one-shot outtake of the actual *action* if you're into that kind of thing *wink wink nudge nudge*

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on the tumbs @ ithinkireadabookonce
> 
> Bonus points to anyone that picks up on any of my not-that-subtle references to literature of greatly variable quality.


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